


Across The Multiverse

by ThatShxtAgain



Category: N.E.R.D.S. - Michael Buckley
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:26:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24601555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatShxtAgain/pseuds/ThatShxtAgain
Summary: Somewhere out there, connected to the world as you know it, is a completely different reality with an entirely different you.A collection of oneshots about various different NERDS in alternate universes.
Kudos: 5





	1. Requests

Hey everyone! This will be where I will be publishing NERDS au oneshots rather than my usual book. If you've read my latest update, I mentioned I will be moving or publishing any au works in this oneshot book. Feel free to comment if you have an ideas, but if I am unfamiliar with the au, please explain the context as much as I can either in your comment or in a pm!


	2. Those We've Lost (OUTCAST)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Synopsis: Ruby 707 meets a dangerous Jackson alternate and offers him stability. Ruby/Jackson oneshot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OUTCAST info: OUTCAST, otherwise known as Universe 707, was a past utility and supply organization that was wiped out of existence by an enemy universe team called DESTROYERS. Ruby 707 was the lone survivor of her world, and was never found by the MISFITS and remained on the broken pieces of her world. Vengeful for her world and herself not being saved, she recreates OUTCAST by teleporting to other worlds and recruiting others who are against MISFIT. This is pre OUTCAST era where she is recruiting the main members to fill the spots of her lost ones.

Ruby didn’t think it would work. She’s tried at least 40 different attempts to build her own makeshift teleportation device with the incredibly inadequate supplies left in her world, and every try, her device would fizzle and crumble in her fingers. It left blisters and burns all over her hands, but never once did she stop working. She tweaked, and experimented, and went through trial and error after error after _error_ \- she needed to get off this miserable world. She needed to _reach out_ to any of those realities around her, and take what she could to rebuild. To recreate what she lost. To get _justice_ for the billions upon _billions_ of lives that the DESTROYERS took and the MISFITS failed to stop.

She needed _another team_ \- and that team would be people like her. People who’ve been cheated, hurt, betrayed, or abandoned by the MISFITS, people who were left devastated with only remnants of what they once had, and only had devastation in their hearts. 

Sure, that task would be proven difficult, considering how friendly and easygoing the MISFITS are to everyone they meet. Most people wouldn’t have a problem with them.

But there were always mistakes. Flaws in the system. Little, tiny errors that the MISFITS would make ever so _rarely._ Errors that the authorities behind the MISFIT association constantly issued to obscure from the public eye to ensure their authority over the multiverse.

And Ruby planned to bring that obscured side out into the light - to expose all the horrors the MISFITS committed over the years. 

She probably wasn’t going to get one now though - this was her first successful jump, and the chances that it would contain a vengeful alternate were less than likely. But nevertheless, she was open to the possibility and decided to explore about. She tucked her teleporter safely in her pocket and looked about her new surroundings. From what she could see, she was most likely in a very advanced universe. Spotless chrome buildings, skyways for speedy subway trains that weren’t attached to the ground, the absence of wires, gas vehicles or present pollution from early 21st century development...it reminded her heavily of her own universe, before its destruction. It had been in the process of advancing to a world like this.

She shook her head, moving her gaze forward. No time to think about that right now. She needed to focus on the task at hand.

As she walked along, she steadily began to realize something was off. She had counted at least five of the same aircrafts passing over her head - aircrafts with logos on their side doors that suggested they must’ve been some sort of authority figures, basic equivalents of cop cars. Something was amiss in this world…and from her knowledge about the multiverse, there was at least an 80% chance of it having to do with an alternate team. 

And if she was lucky, MISFIT could be the cause. 

Figuring out where the communication hub is wasn’t all that hard. Although the advanced modern era didn’t leave all too many wires behind, with what little scrap materials Ruby had, she was able to intercept the police’s frequency and head to the nearest phone booth to listen in to the report. 

“ _No sign of the suspect on Navel Road,_ ” one transmittion reported. “ _No sign of suspect on Hilltyse Avenue either._ ”

" _Keep searching,_ ” a responding officer said back. “ _Spread the word that a 5’6, unstable, white blonde male is on the run for suspected murder of his cohorts in INTELLECTS Labs. Passerbys may have been able to spot or pass by him._ ”

Ruby was quick to hop off the transmission afterwards. With advancements like these, it wouldn’t be long before anyone from the main station would pick up Ruby’s interception and report it to the outgoing officers. She made sure to leave right away after she disconnected her interceptor, and jogged down the street and made a right turn into the alleyways. 

From the information she was able to gather, she assumes the suspect must’ve been a Jackson alternate. INTELLECTS was probably this universe’s organization name, and apparently he may or may not be responsible for the murder of his team. There were two possible scenarios - one, he must’ve either have been framed or indirectly responsible, or two, he was very much a murdering mad scientist that needs to be locked up. Well, when she thinks about that, both were still an okay option. While the first one would be more desired, a mad scientist could certainly help her with upgrading and rebuilding her universe without needing a reason. Though it probably wouldn’t be good for her mentality to have a mentally unhinged person be one of the first people she would work with. 

She rounded a couple more alleyways, turning back when she reached dead ends and making little yellow chalk markings on the garbage disposals to mark where she already came from so she wouldn’t end up walking in circles. This proves to be difficult to use when the automatic cleaners on the disposals would wipe away her markings, but she quickly memorizes which ones she passed even without the chalk. Time can do so much when you’re forced to stay in the same place for the next three years. Or had it been longer…? She doesn’t linger too much at the thought and continues on.

She stops right when she comes across an offsetting noise. Taking another glance at the alleyway she stepped into, it seemed to be coming from behind the disposal bins. It had the faintest recognition of what sounded like _metal grinding_ , and Ruby takes cautious steps. Despite the closer she got, the more it seemed _distorted,_ more _haywire._ A malfunction was definitely at the top list of her suspicions. Scuttling, screeching of a hard surface, and _thumping_. She makes another pause, takes a quick breath, then finally rounds around the bin.

Behind it was a mess of ragged blonde hair, a torn white lab coat covered in blood, and a _terrifying_ jerking behavior. His head rattled inhumanely, and Ruby only catches his frantic blue eyes before he’s scrambling backward like a skittish animal. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Ruby tries to reassure him with her hands out, emptying her pockets of anything that would seem specifically threatening to him - which wasn’t much, but she needed him to feel safe. The Jackson alternate watched her with wide eyes, but from her view he didn’t seem to be looking at what she was doing.

He was staring at her face.

Ruby internally cursed. Of course - he was literally suspected of killing his team. She must’ve looked like a ghost to him.

“I’m….not her,” She told him slowly, kneeling down to meet his eyes but not approaching him quite yet. She’ll let him come to her. “Not _your_ Ruby, at least. But I still mean you no harm.”

There’s another rattle and a mechanical whir before Jackson’s head steadies still. “ _Are you with them?_ ” He growls, growing defensive and scooting back once more.

“No,” Ruby told him simply. “Not with the security looking for you, at least. And I’m not with who I think you’re talking about either.”

There’s another beat, and a crank. He’s inspecting her, she noted. Trying to analyze if she was trustworthy. " _Then why_ are _you here_?” He asked with narrowed eyes.

She doesn’t quite trust him either, but they aren’t going to get anywhere by keeping things. “I escaped from somewhere,” She told him, adjusting her position to sit cross legged, reaching for the teleportation device she placed down and slid it to him. “Somewhere I was trapped in unfairly, and lost those I cared about. I was alone for _years,_ and finally got that working to teleport elsewhere.”

She glances up at him. “I’m assuming you’re stuck in the same position.”

The blonde boy chuckles humorlessly, which resulted in more mechanical screeching noises as he picks up the teleportation device. “ _Whatever gave it away? The fact there’s millions of helicopters flying around for a runaway science boy? Or the newspaper headlines about how I ‘presumably’ murdered my own team?_ ”

“I intercepted a copter's signal, actually,” Ruby admitted sheepishly. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re _not_ that big of a deal.”

Jackson rolls his eyes before studying the makeshift device in his hands. “ _You must’ve been_ very _limited to resources over there - most prison cells at least more to work with._ ”

“It wasn’t a prison cell.” Ruby snapped, causing Jackson to look back. The blonde girl realizes how harsh that came out and sighs, leaning back against one of the bins. “It was worse than a cell,” she said softly. “It was a graveyard - nothing there but reminders of everything that once existed and now just _wasn’t._ Those places...they get closed off from the rest of the worlds for sensible reasons. But I sent transmission after transmission after _transmission_ \- and I know they made it out. They were just never answered...ignored.”

There’s a beat between them as Ruby’s gaze lingers upward, spacing out on one of the perfectly painted blue tiles of the wall in front of her. She’s again reminded about metaphors regarding fabrications that led her to this point, and from there it takes a bit of her energy to drive her mind away from ruins. 

She hears a few stagger clanks and doesn’t look over as Jackson moves over to sit beside her, following her gaze to the painted tiles. 

They sit together in silence for a while, unsure of what to say. The setting was painfully familiar to the both of them - yet the person they were with was both familiarly unfamiliar. They’re not who they know, yet they wore their faces. They don’t know what the other is feeling, but it must’ve surely hurt all the same.

Because that person they knew is dead.

“ _What dimension were you from_?” Jackson finally spoke, breaking the silence.

“707.” Ruby shifted slightly, and Jackson blinks in surprise.

“ _That’s..._ really far _from here. It’s theoretically impossible you even got here with what you used!_ ” He gestures to the teleporter in his hand.

Ruby raised a brow at this. “Really? What’s this one?” She asked.

“ _34!_ ” Jackson told her, to which the blonde girl’s eyes widened. The gap between this world and her own was _huge_ \- she expected to hop at least _three_ dimensions before hers. This one wasn’t even remotely _close_ to 707! She’s greatly underestimated how far the teleporter would get her. 

Before Ruby could answer, the boy suddenly jolted, Ruby jumping away as he lurched back and forth headfirst, grimacing and gritting his teeth. With the closer view, she could now see the source was coming from _his mouth_ , the familiar grinding screeching at her eardrums. He growls, curling up on the ground and rolling on his side, steeling his jaw so hard that she swore it must’ve started _bleeding_ then and there.

“What’s going on with you?!” She exclaims worriedly, moving over to his side to try and help him up, but he flinches away the instant she touches him. “ _The….Th-The thing...that ki-killed them..”_ he seethes out, and Ruby only has half a second to jump out of the way as a janky robotic arm shot out from Jackson’s mouth, clawing the floor as she climbs to her feet. Crooked, unsteady tools whirl and fizz out - one of those spiked death wheels, screwdrivers (?), and more hands that appeared to be missing a couple of fingers. Ruby dodges each of them that tries to grab or strike her - surprisingly, her reaction time is still on point. 

She jumps onto a garbage bin and dives back down to pin the mechanics down, using her foot to keep them under her while her hands hold them all together. “Can you get them back in??” She yells to Jackson, and only then does she realize he’s choking. Oh god, he’s _choking._ Ruby adjusts her grip to her foot and tries to help Jackson out of his current position and makes a gasp when she sees his face. His mouth was _filled_ with blood, making pained noises as the mechs squirmed, droplets of blood falling to the ground and staining his already soaked lab coat. 

It’s practically a miracle when the arms finally spin back inside, and the boy hacks out more blood, Ruby having a hand on his back as he doubles over, spitting and coughing out even more blood, and she could see bits of _wiring_ in the puddles. 

Braces. Those were _braces._ Those had been _upgrades -_ but something had gone horribly, _horribly_ wrong.

Ruby doesn’t get a chance to ask him when a spotlight falls over them, and the girl’s quick to grab his arm and help him into the other alleyway as shouts could be heard behind them. She squeezes them into a particularly narrow opening, the two children holding their breaths as footsteps stormed past them in sync. Ruby counts the pairs that pass - two, three, four, five - five cops. Jackson wasn’t going to last long here. 

It’s only when they finally can’t hear them does Ruby whirl to the boy. “You can’t stay here,” she tells him, reaching for her teleporter. “ _But I can’t leave! There’s a world block on the entire DIMENSION! I won’t be able to hop out!”_ Jackson exclaims. “Then how do you explain how I got here?” Ruby retorted, adjusting the knobs and changing the coordinates. “I only have one planted location.” She sucks in a breath, lips thinning. The blonde boy instantly reads her expression.

“No. _You said that place was a graveyard, you can’t go back there!”_ He protested, but Ruby only gave him a stern look. “I’ll bear with it. Besides, this was the whole point I came here.” She simply answers, starting up the teleporter. _“Wha-”_

“Hold on!”

The girl with cracked glasses has an iron grip on Jackson’s arm when they’re suddenly zapped out of the alleyway - their surroundings crackling and stretching that _definitely_ didn’t happen with normal teleporters - and he soon sees why Ruby had described it as a graveyard.

There was nothing there. Almost _literal_ nothing. There was broken rock, ashes, and so much rubble. There wasn’t a single living, breathing thing besides them in sight. Ruby’s grip falters, and she now wears an unreadable expression that Jackson concludes must’ve been from when she was stuck here. She stares off - at the broken pieces of the world before them, of the broken pieces of _her_ world, before tearing her eyes away, letting go before walking to a particularly low makeshift table. 

“ _That thing you said,_ ” Jackson said slowly, walking over to her as she searches through her stuff. “ _What did you mean_?”

“I meant this was unfair,” Ruby responds automatically, moving to one of the piles and her searches beginning to turn hasty. “ _Everything_ that happened was unfair. The DESTROYERS, this world, my _family_ and _friends, YOUR_ friends, _you_! Doesn’t this feel unfair?”

Of course it felt unfair. Jackson had been hiding out in every sewer and hidden alleyway for four whole weeks, and from the looks of it, Ruby had been stuck here _much_ longer. The girl finds what she needs and turns back to him, now holding up what appeared to be a red pill. 

“I don’t know if this is going to work, but I want you to join me,” She says seriously. “I want justice for my world. I want justice for all these innocent people who were just going about with their lives and were suddenly zapped out of existence. I want justice for having to _stay here_ , in _ruins_ of what was once a civilization about to advance to one just like yours. I want justice for _everything_ that was _covered up_ and _lied about_ in order for MISFITS to remain in order. I want them to _fall_.” 

She opens Jackson’s palm and drops the pill in, closing his hand. “And I think you’re just the right person to join my side.” 

There’s another silence as Jackson stares at her, then down at the pill in his hand. Ruby’s hands twitch, trying to hold up her hopeful look. Had she been too intense? Did she say too much? Was he going to decline? Was he going to leave her? Was she going to be alone again?

His blue eyes meet her dark brown ones once more, this time with a determined look. “ _I_ _couldn’t go back there even if I wanted to. And even if I could, I want them to pay too._ ” He tells her, holding the pill close to his eye to examine it. _“They did this to me. They requested for an automatic upgrade device, and demanded for it when it wasn’t ready. It shot me, and I massacred my own team. Their blood is not only on my hands._ ”

He swallows the pill dry, and he extends a hand to Ruby. “I’m with you.” He said firmly, his voice now clear of tremors and distortion. A grin spreads on the girl’s face, and she shakes the boy’s hand.

One down, four more to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up having more action than I thought it would. I better hear some appreciation from you, Geeks. Anyway, these two are from an au called OUTCAST, which you can find more information about in our Discord server. Message nerding-out-over-nothing on Tumblr to get the link so you can join! We're always open for new members, and I'm always open for requests! It'll probably take a couple dozen weeks though since I'm nearing the end of my summer classes, soooo it's going to be a work pile on my schedule. But once I get free time, I'll write it up! Thanks for reading, leave a comment, and have a wonderful rest of your day!


	3. Cozy Sweaters And Blankets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The INIKOS contemplate their current cozy environment and wonder if there’s more to life than turf wars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> INIKO Info: The INIKOS are giant, inhumanely strong kids that look like JoJo adults. They live in a desolate, post-apocalyptic world where survivors do intense anime-style battles with one another to claim territory and supplies. This is otherwise known as ‘turf wars’, and according to sources the INIKOS have the most acquired land than any other groups. They are very ambitious to keep it that way, and are very dangerous. DO NOT associate.
> 
> NEKO Info: The NEKOS are in the name - anime magicat humans with very cutesy and friendly natures. Their original universe was destroyed during the OUTCAST and MISFIT war, but they relocated to a soft urban forest dimension and live in a little cabin. They’ll attend the regular MISFIT parties here and there, but prefer to keep to themselves in their free time. According to sources, they somehow keep a stable romantic relationship with the INIKOS.

Before the NEKOS, there were turf wars. Brutal, fight-to-the-death battles between survivors of the apocalypse to claim what little they could to survive in a world like their own. _Property._ What came with property were supplies. What came with property was _respect._

What came with property was privilege to walk the barren wastelands as a _superior,_ someone worthy of bragging rights.

Bragging rights cost the INIKOS their parents’ lives.

They were not too older than they were now, perhaps only 9 or 10 when the incident happened. Six kids playing in a cozy, cool, rundown house that resembled more of a hut, but the children were too absorbed in their game of trash chess (chess pieces made out of bits of scrap) to care. Their parents were sitting at the small table nearby, watching and chatting happily as if the world had not self-destructed on itself.

Then, the raiders came.

It would forever be implanted in those children’s minds forever when people dressed in scarves and hoods intruded their house, pointing swords at their dear parents. They demanded that they give up all their belongings and leave this house at once. They claimed to be ‘expanding’ - furthering their claimed territory.

Their parents made no hesitation to do as they say. They had little ones to think of, after all. They ushered the children out and handed over whatever little they held dear. They were maternal items - nothing cost more than their own lives.

Then the raiders ordered for their supplies, and that was when their parents drew the line. There were _much_ more of them than the raiders, so they should have kept their supplies. They’ve already given them everything they had, why give them what kept them alive?

So the raiders decided to lessen the mouths to feed.

Then and there, right in front of their innocent, youthful little eyes, did the raiders _decapitate_ their precious parents in a single swipe. Droplets of their blood stained their faces and clothes, and with cold, cruel eyes did the raiders tell them to run - run with those precious ‘supplies’ that their parents sacrificed themselves to keep, and never return. 

Oh, how those raiders did not realize the _monsters_ they created. 

From that day, those very kids only seeked one thing - _vengeance._ How could those selfish raiders steal away their parents, the only people they had? How could they take away what little memorabilia they could’ve kept to remember their parents by? How could they come in and ruin their lives with one fell swoop as if they weren’t _living beings?_

Those children tossed away their little plays and toys and wonders, and they trained. They trained and fought and toughened up to get stronger, seeking to repay what was taken from them. They hunted animals as prey for the savages they would conquer later on. They were hard on each other, but it was necessary so they could all progress. Fights got more rough, they held back less and sparred with their entire strength, barely taking breaks and keeping their dedication through and through - until Ruby declared that they were ready to face the monsters.

When they arrived back at their house, they were no longer children. They were _giants -_ looming, stone-hearted, and callous souls who had to grow up early to get things done. They bear the furs of the creatures they slayed as badges of growth, symbolizing the path they took and the necessary things they had to part with.They carried no sympathy - for tonight, the demons thriving in their household deserved none. 

The raiders didn’t stand a chance when they barged in that night.

They gave them none.

And right after they performed the tedious deed, only then did a name whisper into their heads - a name in which they would be known for and strike fear across the cowardly wastelands.

_INIKO._

And that was the name the group chose to call themselves, and wrote it on the ripped tarp of their reclaimed home to announce their victory to the world.

Rumors spread like wildfire after their massacre. How could they not, when the beasts hung the bloodied, torn scarves of their kills, the actual mess of the mangled bodies left outside their house and arranged in a way that only formed two words - ‘KEEP OUT.’ They were new foes, fresh meat. They were a new number and rank in the killing game afoot.

But none would have guessed how fast they made their way to the top. 

After those kills, the beasts desired more. That hunt was short, barely an extent of their efforts. They didn’t want this to be a one time pursuit, no, they wanted a _lifetime_. They never wanted another soulless person to steal a treasured life from them ever again. They never wanted to be hurt _ever again_.

And so the hunt began. They targeted the nearest territories first. It was as if they were sweeping mere ants off their table. Then they stretched forward - separating for anything that only required minimal effort and only came together when they actually _needed_ to use their full force, and anyone with a decent amount of power grew uneasy. They sent assassins, troops, hitmen, each one _failing_ as the cowards grew more desperate to exterminate them with no avail - until they actually entered the territory and eradicated the leaders. 

In less than a week, the INIKOS had claimed more than _60%_ of the land from the former state alone, possibly about to straight up conquer the entire landpiece as a whole if they wanted to. People questioned if they even ate or slept from the rate they were going, seeming inhumanely determined to sweep every one of their opponents under the rug. They wasted no time, and it became clear to anyone that had something worth holding above their heads that these new foes meant _business_.

The INIKOS knew about their quickly draining humanity. They were aware that they looked _nothing_ like their current age, and lacked any empathy towards any of the inhabitants they conquered. They were aware that they were unable to sleep fully and were always on high alert, even at night, and sometimes would only eat once a day. They were aware that they were slowly losing the ability to open up and show emotions toward each other, and that sometimes, even if it’s just them, the house was always filled with silence. They only ever talked when plotting missions. That was because even their proper _social skills_ were wavering. But that was the effect of taking this path - they were turning into the very creatures that killed their parents, and they did nothing to change it.

Then that was when the NEKOS came into their lives.

Six small humans with catlike features and behavior, yet also appeared almost _exactly like them._ If the INIKOS still resembled their old child forms, then they would’ve been practically an exact match. Minus the tails and paws, of course. 

They were aware that other versions of themselves existed in the world. They had met the _ever annoying_ ‘MISFITS’ that were trespassing on their property and were speaking a worldwide banned language. They didn’t look forward to any more of those ‘alternate teams’ afterwards.

Yet…the NEKOS seemed _different._ They were _incredibly_ smaller, for a start. Honestly quite helpless when they first met. They had been cornered by the area’s troopers until the INIKOS burst in and shot them down. Fancily dressed, too. Said they were going to a party of some sorts but broke their thing-a-ma-jig and wound up here. The INIKOS felt... _pity_ for their situation and instead of killing them, they picked them up and took them home with them.

They really didn’t intend for them to be guests, but they didn’t have the heart to tie them up. However, they couldn’t keep anyone alive long without a hidden agenda, and theirs was whatever those magical-wand-slash-weapon things strapped on their backs were. 

Funny thing is, they hardly paid attention to it at all. 

The NEKOS were sweet. Very _sappily_ sweet, in fact. They didn’t have the slightest clue what their true intentions were, and proceeded to _thank_ and _compliment_ them for their hospitality. They curled and cuddled in their giant blankets and even sat on their laps so the INIKOS could sit at the table without needing more chairs. In fact, they _stayed_ in their laps even when they moved to the couch, purring against any petting. 

They were very _catlike_ in every sense of the word, and the INIKOS were half expecting them to poof into actual cats then and there. 

Unfortunately, the despised MISFITS arrived shortly after they finished dinner, and they had to say their goodbyes. They didn’t meet their goal of stealing their weapons, but the INIKOS were strangely okay with that. After all, they hadn’t killed the little things, and if anyone in the wastelands had found out, they would’ve been esteemed ‘weaker’ than they appeared. Things were better this way.

But then the NEKOS started visiting them. 

The first time it happened they had brought a ginormous basket of baked goods and fresh fruits and vegetables, and handed it to them saying it was a thank you gift for their hospitality. The INKOS were quite surprised at the gesture, and reluctantly took the gift with mumbles of appreciation. They expected them to leave after that, but they stayed over a little longer after that. A _lot_ longer than they expected, in fact. They almost stayed the night if it weren’t for NEKO Ruby reminding the group that the INKOS probably need to be doing something at the moment. After they left, the INKOS couldn’t help but stare at the untouched treat basket and briefly wonder why someone as sweet as them existed in the universe.

So they sent their own basket of treats in return.

Their definition of ‘treats’ was certainly _very_ different from what the NEKOS had brought them. They had no idea how they created those fluffy, sweet things, so they decided to just pile the basket in what they considered valuable - assortments of meat, steaming barbeque sticks, some old furs that were still in good shape, and a roll of toilet paper. They didn’t know what else to give, and toilet paper had _a lot_ of value in their world. They felt strangely nervous about sending the package off, considering it looked nothing like the NEKOS’, but it was better than nothing.

It didn’t even take a day before they got a response.

Straight after they received the basket, the NEKOS teleported right to their dimension to fawn over what they had given, and proceeded to give them _another basket_ in return. In retaliation, they _also_ gave them another basket. This lasted for quite some time, both groups exchanging gifts and attempting to outdo whatever they were given in their own way, slowly fueling into competitive, yet friendly energy, until eventually the INKOS ran out of things to give them.

That was how things started. After the gift-giving died down, the NEKOS just came over from time to time, just...to hang out. There was no ulterior motive, at least not one that the INIKOS could pick up on, and according to them, they apparently just ‘enjoyed their company.’ No real business, nothing the expected to receive or give, it was simply that. And the INIKOS couldn’t _get it._

They should’ve complained. They should’ve told them to only visit once a month if they really wanted to keep doing that, or just stop popping in unannounced in general. It was messing with their schedule, and most importantly - eventually, with how frequent they were, someone was bound to find out.

But for some reason, they never could. Instead, they stayed silent about the issue, and only continued to strike small talk with the smaller group. Simple small talk turned into small talk with petting, which turned into small talk with petting and cuddling, which turned into small talk with _sleepovers._ Something in the INIKOS made them hesitant to do anything remotely _harsh_ to the group, which was ridiculously ironic, considering their regular occupations. They always had the simplest impulses to make the smaller group as comfortable as they could get in a rugged world like their own, and their little purrs, giggles, and grins tugged something in them. Something... _different,_ yet oh so _familiar_. For as smart as they are, they couldn’t place their fingers on it.

Until the NEKOS provided the answers themselves.

“Do you want to start a relationship?”

The INIKOS blinked, pausing their current pets to look down at their smaller alternates. “I...I thought we already had one,” Duncan I said in confusion. The NEKOS flush, curling up slightly in their spots in their laps. “ _Romantically_ , we mean. Like...something similar to what we are right now, but a little closer,” Ruby N tries to explain, playing with a strand of curly hair.

“We don’t get it.” Jackson I replies blandly, the other INIKOS nodding in agreement. How would a relationship possibly grow ‘closer’? As far as they knew, they were already as close as they could possibly get with one another. They were giving physical affection and commencing in casual talks. What could be more to it?

The other NEKOS look among each other, unsure of how to explain further. “Uhm, romantic relationships involve being more _open._ Lowering inner walls and trusting each other in a bonded way. It also involves other displays of affection like kissing and small intimate moments between partners,” Julio explains slowly, though wasn’t sure if it sounded right. “Does...Does that make sense to you?”

Truthfully, it didn’t. But for some reason, deep inside their gut, they felt some sense of _intrigue_ at the idea that there was somehow still _more_ to whatever they shared right now. Plus, they didn’t want to disappoint the dear NEKOS.

And so, somehow, the two teams started dating. How two completely opposite sides of the anime-style universe spectrum ended up in such pairings, they don’t have quite a clear answer, but nevertheless here they are. And the INIKOS didn’t regret a _second._

At first, there wasn’t really any change to their routine. The two groups simply shared the INIKOS’ couch together with blankets and cuddles. It was just simple relaxing with the regular conversations flowing out like an ocean current.

Then the NEKOS _kissed_ them. It was nothing grand, just a tiny peck on the cheek before they fell asleep in their usual positions, but it was enough to make their chests jump and stare down incredulously at their sleeping partners. In that moment, there was...there was something in them that came to life. Something that had remained docile after the INIKOS had turned into the cold savages they were. 

_Warmth._ It was nothing like the burning heat of the ruined deserts before them, no - it was an earthy, humble feeling that they could only recall within their past - with their _parents._

They became closer than ever after that. It took some time for the INIKOS to get used to reciprocating the kisses the NEKOS gave, but their partners were ever so patient. They were protective, and they vowed never to let a single fly harm their little NEKOS.

But with that...came guilt. Guilt from the fact that they haven’t been quite honest with the NEKOS about what they _really_ did. 

The little cat people had no clue about their true occupation, about how terf battles _really_ went down. They had never _seen_ the bloodbath they caused when they weren’t home and how they came to have won so much land.

And because of their loyalty to the NEKOS, the INIKOS decided they would tell them. In time. To be honest, they were actually quite _nervous_ about how they would react to hearing they butchered people on a daily basis, fearing they would break connections with them then and there. So at the back of their heads, they sought out to find the right place and time to _somehow_ explain to them and hopefully won’t lose them in the process. 

However, they didn’t have that time - because the NEKOS found out themselves. 

They don’t know how they did, but one night Jackson I was startled when Julio N began crying in the middle of the night and told him they _knew._ They knew about their beastly nature. They knew about the bloodshed day after day after _day._ They knew that the only reason they keep anyone alive past their first encounter is if they had something to gain from them - then wipe them out once they did. 

The INIKOS were in shock to find out that the NEKOS had actually been _fearful_ that _they_ would hurt them if they had no use for them anymore, and truthfully, further in the past, they would have gladly done so. 

But not anymore. Not with the connection they all had. 

So in the morning, they all sat down and had a talk. The INIKOS explained everything - from their past, how they developed so huge, how they won all their land, everything. They didn’t want to leave _anything_ out because the NEKOS deserve _that much_ of their complete honesty. If they were to be dedicated in this relationship, they might as well not hold anything back.

And somehow, just _somehow,_ the NEKOS accepted it. They knew that their universe was very, _very_ different than most, and this was how they survived. This is how they’ve lived this long. This is how they’ve adapted in a world that took away childhood.

So things went back to the way they were, maybe even _better_ than before. The INIKOS no longer had to worry about when the time came to tell things that needed to be explained, and the NEKOS didn’t have to fear for their lives. Everything was as it should be.

Then one interesting day, they offered them to come to _their_ house. Funnily enough, they haven’t seen or visited their place yet, and since it seemed like a slow day, they decided why not. 

The moment they popped they popped in, they were transformed. _Literally._

Their extreme height and muscle were all gone and reduced to baby fat and smaller, _very_ familiar child forms. They can’t even remember when they were this small, it felt like a vague memory of their youth. But of course, they themselves were still kids. _They_ were still in their own youth. 

While they had been horrified, the NEKOS were _delighted_. They patted at their new fats and squished their cheeks, cooing happily while the INIKOS felt very _exposed_ in more ways than one. For one, they actually _blushed._ They were barely able to express any physical emotion back in their world, but somehow here, a simple nuzzle was making their faces flush and their heads dizzy. It was a tidal wave of newfound exposure and feelings that they didn’t know they were still capable of _having,_ and they could barely last a day without turning red hot with every little touch. 

And that was when the NEKOS scooped them up and brought them inside. They provided them with soft clothes, a wonderfully urban supper, and let them sleep in their _heavenly_ plush beds that they practically _melted_ into once they sank in. It was all so new to them, so...so strangely _homey._ A part of them never wanted to leave the cushioned bed and stay in their NEKOS’ arms forever…

When they got home, a part of them felt disappointed. It felt silly to think of, but despite how simple the NEKOS’ living was...at the back of their heads, they wouldn’t have minded _staying_ there for quite a bit.

They shook that thought out at first. Why, after everything they worked for and finally achieved, would they want to give it all away to live in a _cabin?_ Where there wasn’t a single moment of action except hunting, and everyone lived their lives with ease without _commotion?_

It...It reminds them so much of how things were with their parents. When they were just kids who lived together in a run down house with their families and trying to forget about the post-apocalyptic world they were in. It _hurt._

Against their better judgement, they visited more often. They helped them hunt and fish in their huge, astounding forest. They followed them to the nearby village to buy necessities and learned about their currency. They helped them cook and prepare meals with the strange technology they called stoves and ovens, and settled down in their equally plush sofas after a wonderful dinner. Nights over grew longer, time spent with them felt endless, and the more they stayed in this little cabin in the woods, a part of them continued to question if their identity as the INIKOS, if their status as the terrifying human beasts they were known as, was what they really wanted.

Was...was this how true childhood felt like?

So one night, staring up at the starry, glow-in-the-dark ceiling, cozy under the covers and holding Matilda N to her chest, Ruby I whispered, “Would you be okay with us staying here one day?”

Matilda N stirred, ears twitching slightly before peeking one eye open. “What do you mean?”

“Well...Somewhere in the future, what if we quit doing what we did? What if we gave all our land away, cleaned our house out, and moved in with you guys?” Ruby I asked, stroking her partner’s every fluffy hair. “Start a new leaf, help you about the house like normal, sleeping, cuddling, just live life without a care?”

Matilda N tilted her head, perking up. “You mean it? Would you really do that?” She asks hopefully.

Ruby I turned sheepish, tugging at her turtleneck. “A-As long as you’re all okay with it, of course. Don’t wanna just seem like more mouth to fe-”

The blonde girl yelps when Matilda N suddenly dove forward in her chest, rolling them over and laying on top of her, grinning. “We wouldn’t mind a _thing_ ,” She giggles, burying her face back in and purring shortly. It takes Ruby a moment to register her response, but once she did, she smiles softly, rubbing circles on her back.

And that was how the INIKOS learned that the satisfaction they truly needed was just being under the covers in cozy blankets with the people they loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooof, man this feels sloppy. Not my best work - I was supposed to post this last night, but I had to turn in early to put my brother to sleep. Didn't sleep quite well afterwards. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this update, leave a comment, and have a wonderful rest of your day!


	4. Alleyway Of Thrills (Dance au)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson craves for more action outside of his boring ballet lessons. Instead, he gets his butt kicked in an illegal dance battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while since my last update, but here it is!! Might add some info about the au later on!

Jackson Jones came from a higher end family. When born in a higher end family, you’re enlisted into things deemed for your status whether you actually gave consent or not. It’s all about maintaining a proper reputation for the outside world to consume - to inspect, to judge, but above all see them as higher than the ones reading them up in the first place. Impressions mattered.

Jackson Jones was good at football. But unfortunately, that was already Chaz’s thing, and the press would have a good opportunity at scoping out a family rivalry if they both excelled at the same thing. Jackson was fortunate enough that he had 7,999 other sports to choose from, but they never exerted out the same stimulation that he got out of football. They never kept his interest enough to continue to pursue it.

So when he ran out of time to pick one, his dad signed him up elsewhere - specifically, non-sports related. 

Ballet.

Jackson nearly choked on his pasta the day he was informed, telling his dad that was one of the best jokes he’s ever said and that he almost fell for it this time (note that his father has never actually remotely joked about _anything_ ), before turning bewildered when his dad was serious. He then immediately asks if there even _are_ any boys in ballet (which there are) and how he doesn’t see it as too ‘ _girly’_ for him. Mr. Jones waves him off and simply tells him it isn’t up for debate, because he’s receiving lessons straight in the morning. 

Chaz cackles at the sight of Jackson in the leotard the very next day.

Ballet is...strangely difficult. Jackson assumed it was easy at first - it’s just some fancy footwork and an effort to look elegant while doing so, but he has a ridiculous time trying to match the simple stances his teacher showed him. Everyone made it look so _easy,_ and he couldn’t understand why it was so hard for him to keep up. Why couldn’t he just place his feet in the right spots?

His classes snickered at his attempts to mimic their paces, the ugly duckling of the flock - he wobbled and teetered about, bumping into everyone and breaking their formation. He was a nuisance at best, and it caused him to embarrassingly need extra tutoring.

Then it dawned to Jackson that ballet was actually very similar to _football._ As he was practicing his balance, he realized that he had the exact same issue when he played football - whenever an opponent tried to tackle him, Jackson would have to make sure he kept his feet on the ground to make a quick getaway. He never really succeeded, but Jackson still had a wicked throwing arm and could pass the football regardless of that.

Same could be said about leaping catches - Jackson didn’t have the best recovery whenever he did those. He would usually fall over and throw the ball again and still make the winning goal (which was _incredibly_ lucky), and while he’d take an injury to the shoulder or the hip, as long as they won he was cool with it. With the amount of jumping, turning, and posing, ballet might actually help him improve in football. He felt like showing what he learned to Chaz, but then he’d call him a dweeb so he didn’t want to waste his time trying to reason with him.

So Jackson continued with ballet. Not like he had a choice, anyway. But he liked to think he motivated himself into continuing.

And surprisingly, he got good at it. _Really_ good, actually. 

His class was shocked. In less than a week, he was able to keep in stance through most of the poses, stay in sync with everyone else, and was even able to do a leap that most had set aside until they had worked on their flexibility. It was as if he was an entirely different dancer. His instructor had been impressed.

It seems ballet really _was_ his forte. If he was good at something, he couldn’t deny it. All the more to bolster his ego, after all. As long as he was being looked up to and praised, he was satisfied.

Until he got bored of it. 

Over the years, ballet became... _stiff_ for him. Jackson did classical ballet, which was relatively rigid and didn’t leave him much room to do things as he wished. Everything is precise, calculated, and completely _predictable._ He would practice the same routine for more than the _entire day_ , the same moves, the same act, the same music, everything was just so _expected_. Which is normal in ballet, sure, precision and grace was the key, but it _bored_ him. He’d be doing the exact same routine he did three years ago, make the same performance, and nobody would bat an eye. It took a lot of his time, and, if he wasn’t so rich, would’ve run his money dry with how much he would spend on _ballet shoes_ alone. He missed the thrill of the football field - how unpredictable each match with a different team was, how his team would strategize how to beat the other, how he would make the winning touchdown, carry the trophy and be lifted by his teammates with all the glory.

Ballet didn’t have much glory. At least, not for him. Because while Jackson Jones had excelled when he first started, that didn’t mean he automatically got the spotlight. In fact, it was _rare_ he would even be picked for anything outside of a group performance, not even a duet piece. 

Contemporary seemed more of his beat, but his father had said he was already so good at classical - why change interests now?

So without any other options, Jackson decided to find his own beat. 

He waited until his roommate _finally_ went to sleep (he swore Heathcliff must be some sort of android to practice until 11 in the evening) before pulling on some casual wear and sneaking out the window. The hallways were usually monitored, and his room was on the third floor, so he decided he could make the trip from the outer ridges of the windows. There’s just enough foot room to press against the wall and scoot to the nearest window framing to climb down, and Jackson’s suddenly thankful ballet is so difficult to make him this flexible. He’s hopping off the 1st floor railing in a matter of minutes, keeping his hood drawn and skulking in the bushes before dashing off campus and into the streets. Rumor has it that there are some illegal dance organizations that host in the back of an alleyway, inside warehouses, and Jackson wanted _in._ He’s pretty sure it’s breakdancing battles though, but to-mate-o to-mat-o. Couldn’t be all that hard, right? Just gotta make everything look flashy and swag.

Jackson doesn’t expect for there to be a guard outside of the warehouse entrance. Then again, if you were to host illegal dance battles, you _would_ need to keep a guard posted to keep anyone from ratting anything out. Jackson tries to look as casual as possible - shoving his hand in his pockets, slouching backward, and keeping his head down as he fell into line. The guard looked at him weirdly, so he might’ve been trying too hard. 

“New entry?” The guard asked with a thick Russian accent.

“Uh, yes! Yes,” Jackson said, chirping before changing his tone to sound casual. Act cool. Act cool.

The guard stared him down before narrowing his eyes. “No mask, no entry.”

“Huh?” Mask? Jackson looked over his shoulder. Just as he’d said, the other participants wore either a face mask or face paint, most likely to conceal their identities. Jackson probably should’ve thought to bring one too. “Uh…”

“He’s with me.” A hand slaps his back and a small young Korean woman moves beside him. She doesn’t look anything past 19, as far as he could see. She’s dressed in a mix of purples, blacks, and a few accents of yellow here and there to balance out her color scheme. Her leather jacket had a yellow collar to match the yellow choker and necklace. Her purple boots had yellow laces and heels. Even her purple beanie had a yellow star pin to keep it in place. She’s got a face mask just like everyone else in line (a black mask with purple flames), which muffled her voice slightly as she talked.

“He’s kinda under-dressed at the moment, but Flood and Flare have the rest of his outfit inside,” she explains, patting him a bit and sending Jackson a look. Jackson immediately nods along, to which the guard raises a brow. “C’mon Vinci, you can excuse this one.”

The guard huffs, but crosses off something on his clipboard. “Name?”

“Ja-” Jackson cuts himself off before he says his name. The girl called two people Flare and Flood, so they probably go by stage names. He needed to make one up.

Jackson looks about, trying to find something to steal off of. Let’s see, uh, Alejandro’s Pizzeria, Bag or Bet It, Jungle of Pets, not a lot to work with.

Okay, think. Maybe something from his recitals had good material. So they had...Swan Lake, of course. Nutcracker, something something about men falling in love with spirit women, sparky sparky something…

Wait. _Spark._ That’s a good name. Hopefully not taken already.

“Spark,” he quickly blurts after he thought about it, realizing how long he was taking. The guard-er, Vinci, squinted down at his list and scoffed through his nose. Unfortunately, that name wasn’t taken.

“You don’t look very... _sparky_ ,” Vinci commented dryly, giving Jackson an unimpressed look.

“Like I said, the rest of his getup is inside. He just threw on whatever he could right now, he doesn’t have a good wardrobe,” The female waved off, leaning her arm on Jackson’s shoulders slightly. “Now c’mon, let us in already! There’s a bunch of people waiting behind us, and you’re holding up the line!”

Vinci scowled, rolling his eyes and writing down Jackson’s stage name. “Partner?”

“Pfft, me?” The Korean snorts. “Never. Write us up as individual entries.” 

The guard marked one last thing down before finally moving the velvet rope to let them in, and the woman kept her hand on Jackson’s back until they were both inside. From the outside view, the warehouse only looked like it could fit a small bar, maybe with enough room to fit at least a hundred people, but probably wouldn’t be fit for dance battling. Then again, the entrance was squeezed in the middle of a small alleyway, and there wasn’t much of a view from the front.

On the _inside_ , however, the warehouse was _huge_. The space as a whole was dimly lit, save for the colorful light-up tile squares scattered in various spots in the room, and a wider one in the very center elevated by a low stage. Looking up, Jackson could spot a couple of spotlights perched on the ceiling beams, each one over one of the dance floors but the majority overlooking the center biggest one. Next to each of the separate squares was a tiny ballot box, where Jackson assumed was where the bets were placed. Or at least, that’s what Jackson assumed they did. Dozens upon dozens of people crowded all the unoccupied space, and if the woman hadn’t been holding onto him, he would’ve been swallowed by the crowd. 

Speaking of which, she was still with him. He had to thank her. 

“You’re lucky I’m feeling nice today,” The short Korean said as she dragged him through the sea of people, weaving through with ease. “Vinci wouldn’t think twice about hurling you back into the street.” With her size, it was easy to duck and squeeze through, whereas Jackson was left stumbling and apologizing to the various people he bumped into.

“Thanks anyway,” Jackson replied, finally looking back at her once he had enough breathing room. “You seem to know this place well.”

The woman snorted, glancing back at him slightly. “Oh please, you’re exactly like a carbon copy of every other white boy looking for some fun that isn’t playing with their junk - clueless, unprepared, and have a terrible mindset of connecting breakdancing with ‘ghetto’.” She nods at his outfit. “It’s offensive, by the way. You’re not convincing anyone.”

Jackson flushed. “Sorry. What’s your name?”

“Wisp,” She responds, adjusting her beanie. “We only go by stage names here, but once we’re out you can call me Mat. Speaking of which, why’d you have to give yourself such a complicated name? Now we gotta figure out how to dress you like that.”

“I just said whatever came to my head!” Jackson defended. “Wait, _we_? You’re actually gonna give me a costume change?”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Wisp said before pausing, looking around a bit before making a right. “That’s only if my friends still brought extra clothes. Plus, they’re likely not gonna match with your theme, Sparky.”

They finally rounded out of the crowd and made their way to the long tables against the wall. The tables only held bottles of water and towels, which were probably for after each of the matches. In front of the tables were two men - both in a matching set of hoodies, jeans, backwards caps, and sneakers, but wore them in contrasting colors. The shorter one had a deep blue, while the taller one had a bright red. 

The shorter one - an African American- walked over to shake Wisp’s hand, twisting forward for a friendly shoulder bump. “You took your time,” he commented.

“Line got caught up,” she shrugged, then jabs a thumb at Jackson. “Sparky here didn’t bring a mask.”

The short man raised an eyebrow at him. “You must be confident you’re not gonna get caught Sparky,” he said with a humored look.

Unlike Wisp, rather than a mask, he and his partner bore bright face paint. They almost looked like another version of yin and yang - the short one had a wavelike design that swirled from the bottom of his face to his right eye, while the taller one’s resembled more of fire, swirling from the top of his head to right under his left eye. 

“It’s _Spark,_ actually,” Jackson corrected. “And you are..?”

“Flood,” The chubby man responded. “My partner over there is Flare.” The taller man - a Latino - gave a half wave. For a moment Jackson thought he was smoking until he noticed the powdery red substance coming out of the other end of the stick.

“What’s that?” He asked. 

“Pixy Stix,” Flare replied, sipping on one end before blowing lightly, causing the substance to disperse like a red mist. “Flood modified it for our act.”

“Which we’re not going to have enough of if you keep sipping on them early,” Flood reminded. 

“It’s still candy!” Flare whined. 

Jackson chuckles, but before he could say anything more, the crowd chatter died down, and the trio looked over as the room turned silent. Vinci and a group of other bouncers moved into the room, walking over to a list of empty panels near the entrance. There were two smaller panels, with a wider panel with four slots each. Vinci and the men began to place different wooden planks into each slot, each wooden plank having a name written on them. This must’ve been the match-ups for each round. There were a couple that they had to write mandatory, but otherwise most of the other planks already carried most of the names. Once they were finished, the sea of people shifted over to the front, immediately searching for their names on the panels. Jackson and the others squeezed and pushed through, and the blonde boy craned his neck to squint at the names. Off the bat, he saw Flare and Flood’s names on the bigger panel matched with names he didn’t know, but he assumes he’ll know them in due time.

He scans the smaller panels, trying to find his name in the matches, and finally spots his at the very bottom.

Right next to Wisp’s.

Wisp scoffs once she sees this, rolling her eyes. “Of course he puts me with you. Petty ass.”

“You’re gonna go easy on me, right?” Jackson asks nervously. Wisp seems like the type to know what she’s doing - but then again, she’s just the first person he met.

Wisp flashed him a mischievous grin. “I never said I was gonna be nice to you on the dance floor. Oh look -” She points to the number besides their names. “We’re up first.”

Aw shit. This is basically setting him up for humiliation.

***

Their cube is backed in a corner. It’s nothing more special than any of the other regular cubes around the warehouse, and most people seemed uninterested with how this would go already, but Jackson was honestly relieved that less people were likely to watch him humiliate himself. 

Flare and Flood had given him a quick outfit change before the round. Like Wisp said, they didn’t have much. They lent him a lime green hoodie and a black face mask with a neon green skull on it. He stuck with the dark grey sweatpants he was already wearing, and, because Wisp interjected that his shoes looked ridiculous, colored in his white Nike Jordans with a highlighter. It doesn’t look less tacky than before, but it at least didn’t look like he was mimicking some high school boy trying to act swag.

Wisp looked just as confident she was going to take home this match. Which she should, because Jackson has no idea how this works.

“The score is cheer based. We each get a turn for about 10 minutes to get the crowd as loud as possible during this time frame, and that’s it. After our turns, the moderator takes a second cheer vote to finalize it all, and that’s when victor is called,” Wisp explains.

“ _Only_ 10 minutes?” Jackson said, bewildered.

“If you’re lucky and the cheers tie, we get an additional 5 minute match where we both go at it at the same time and a third cheer vote goes off,” Wisp shrugs, looking him up and down before smirking. “But I doubt that’ll happen, Sparky. This is your first time street-dancing, isn’t it?”

“How did you-” before Jackson could finish his sentence, the speakers thrum to life, and a deep, energetic beat bursts out. Wisp gives him a half bow, gesturing to him politely. “I’ll let you take the first turn.”

Jackson had no clue how to do this. He’d been hoping to watch Wisp in action first to get a feel of what he’d be doing, but he’s got first move. He looks at the crowd, silent and waiting for him to start as the music pumps out, still unmoving.

Okay, it can’t be that hard. It was complete freestyle, he had control over every move. He can do this.

He starts out small, letting his feet feel the tempo of the music and hop his shoulders slightly. It extends to his legs, bouncing just like shoulders had been, getting his arms off his sides, and he lets the music guide him. It’s upbeat and quick, such a contrast to the soft piano he was used to hearing, drumming right in his eardrums but he doesn’t let it drag him. He follows the flow to the best of his ability. He’s slow at first, almost painfully slow, but he learns when the beat drops and pulses out and follows right along with it, adding in that flair he uses when making a grand jete. He feels his feet leave the floor like never before - he isn’t straining to make it to the other side, he’s soaring right upward.

He’s caught off guard when the music dies down, and all that fills his ears is the jeering from the crowd around them. 10 minutes of that quick turn really wasn’t like a day at the studio. 

Wisp looks rather impressed with him, raising a brow with a side smile. “Not bad, Sparky. You actually lasted the turn.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Sorta. I’ve seen contestants way worse.”

The speakers start up again and Wisp steps forward, waving slightly to tell Jackson to stand back. “But that doesn’t mean I’m letting you win.”

Jackson already knew he was going to lose this match from the start. By what extent, he didn’t know. But now, as the beat began to liven up, and Wisp sent him a playful wink, he knew she was planning on serving his ass on the cobblestone.

Wisp was a small woman. She probably didn’t make it that far past the five-foot range. But that size seems to be exactly what got her her stage name. 

Wisp moves like nothing he’s ever seen before. While he was trying to match and ride the pace of the music, she was _flying_ in it. Her feet were barely on the dance floor long before they were off again, and she twirled and leaped and aerialed her way through each step like she was the air itself, defying gravity. With how fast she moved, Jackson was baffled at how she wasn’t losing energy yet, especially given how much of her moves were gravitating her. But somehow, her feet just kept _moving,_ spry and reflexive and _light._ It was as if she weighed nothing at all. 

By the time the music finishes she’s sprung right back where she began, grinning and huffing as the crowd goes _wild._ She wipes her brow with the back of her palm, and they both move to the center as the moderator comes on the square for the second tally.

Take a wild guess so won.

“I have to say, Spark, you held yourself up pretty well,” Wisp comments as they watch Jackson’s name be removed from the slot, while Wisp’s is moved to another. “I almost didn’t know you’ve never tried street dancing.”

“How did you know?” Jackson asked curiously.

“You carry that energy,” Wisp explains. “The ‘no plan, all action’ type. You didn’t even know how the rounds were. But _at least_ you’re a dancer. What kind?”

“Ballet,” Jackson said sheepishly, rubbing his neck. “Classical.”

“Ah, so you’ve got a lot of leg strength,” Wisp nods. “It shows.”

“Wait, you’re not gonna judge me for that?”

Wisp tilts her head, giving him a weird look. “Why would I? Everyone here’s got their own lives outside of the competitions. It’s not surprising.”

Jackson blinks, fiddling with his drawstrings. Huh. He didn’t expect the other dancers to be so... _humble._ They looked so tough.

“Well Spark, you planning on sticking around?” Flood asked, coming back with a towel and water bottle for each of them. “It’ll take a few rounds before you see us in action, but we’ll be lucky enough if the cops don’t arrive before our turn.”

“No thanks,” Jackson responds. “I kinda gotta get back before my roommate notices I’m gone and rats me out.”

The trio nods to that. “Understandable. Hope to see you again tomorrow night, hombre!” Julio said, shaking his hand. “Stay safe!”

Jackson smiles, shaking back. “I hope I can. Have fun.”

***

Jackson just barely manages to slip back in his window just as he saw the flashlight from the other room. Shit, he forgot they checked up on rooms. He jerkily kicked off his shoes, tugging off the hoodie and mask and stuffing them under his bed, then diving in, throwing his covers over him and facing away from the door. The door opens, and one of the teachers peeks their head inside. Good. Both boys are accounted for and asleep. The door slowly creaks and clicks to a shut, the light and footsteps outside retreating. 

Jackson exhales in relief when he was sure they were gone, pulling his covers from his chin and looking at his palm. Wisp had written down their next meeting place tomorrow night. They changed locations often to keep the cops off their backs.

Jackson couldn’t help but smile fondly at the simple words, chuckling a bit. In those few minutes on a small colored dancefloor, he’d felt more free than he'd ever been on the giant theater he’s performed on for _years_. And he couldn’t wait to experience it again.

Jackson curls further under his covers, making himself comfortable before closing his eyes. Yes, he would be returning to those dance battles again tomorrow. Then the next day. Then the entire _week._ He isn’t sure how he’s going to be able to juggle both ballet and night dancing, but he can sure try. Maybe those guys could teach him a thing or two.

And just like that, Jackson knew he found his wings to soar higher. And little did he know that his roommate from across the room hadn’t been sleeping, and that his life was going to be _a lot_ more interesting from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooooooo boy. It's been an entire year since I've talked about this au. It's one of my favorites, but this is my first time writing dancing and music. I hope I did a good job. I had to scrap a few things since it was getting too long. Also, sorry for the unconscious mentions of social distancing. That was completely unintentional, it's just basically a rule for them to hide their faces/identities, COVID isn't happening in their au XD. Anyways, stay safe everyone, and have a wonderful rest of your day!!


End file.
